


Choke

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Mugging, Rescue, Strangulation, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: MarkBop is mugged on his way to the skatepark by a person willing to kill to steal from him.Whumptober Day 19: Asphyxiation





	Choke

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S STILL OCTOBER 19, NO I'M NOT MISSING A DAY SHOOSH
> 
> For real, I was with my family today so I didn't have time to post until now ;w;
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

MarkBop rather likes walking to the skatepark alone. Not that he dislikes walking with Bing, but it’s nice to be out in the sunshine, listening to music, peacefully walking along instead of trying to keep up with Bing’s excited speed-walking. Bing is already at the park today, and he has been since early morning. Bop was too tired to go with him after spending half the night trying to record a cover, but now that he’s had enough sleep, he’s already texted him and let him know that he’s coming to join him. So he walks along, enjoying the warm LA sun and the new album he’s listening to through his airpods.

He’s been warned, though, not to listen to music while he’s walking in the city. Mostly by Dr. Iplier, who’s the one who gives him icepacks when he gets too engrossed in his tunes and walks into poles or trips over something he didn’t see. But by Oliver, too, who worries that some unsavory character might take advantage of Bop’s absentmindedness to attack him. Bop admits he doesn’t like the thought of that, but it hasn’t ever happened, and it’s broad, bright daylight right now, so he doubts he has anything to worry about.

But it turns out there’s a first time for everything, and Bop is suddenly grabbed by his arm and pulled into the alley he’s passing by.

“Don’t speak,” orders the assailant, a brick wall of a man in a nondescript black hoodie, “Just give me your wallet.”

Bop is stunned. He opens his mouth and closes it again. His heart races and his breathing picks up. Worse than the situation he’s found himself in is the fact that he has nothing to offer: No wallet, and no money. Most of the other egos don’t have money, either. The ones who do provide for the ones who don’t, and most don’t have a need to carry much around. Bop hardly ever carries money, and he isn’t carrying any today.

“I don’t…” he manages, beginning to tremble as the other man holds his arm in a vice grip, “I don’t…”

“What, you have no money?” The man scoffs. “Explain those fucking things in your ears, then.”

Oh, right. Bop’s airpods. Granted, he’s not the only ego who got them; a few of them asked for them when they came out, and they got so obnoxious about it (it was Bing and Bim, mostly) that Dark finally relented and got airpods for everyone who wanted them. Bing lost his pretty much immediately, of course, but Bop still has his own.

“G-Gift,” Bop manages. It’s not an incorrect statement.

“Likely story,” the man mutters. He snatches them out of Bop’s ears anyway and shoves them into his pocket. “Gimme your phone, too, and don’t tell me you don’t have one.”

Bop does have his phone, but he doesn’t want to give it up. No, he _can’t._ The other egos’s phone numbers are on it, not to mention Mark’s, and letting that information fall into the hands of some random human would be a dangerous disaster for Dark to clean up. Bop hears people nearby walking past the alley he’s in, and decides to take a chance.

_“Hel–!”_

Not enough, not enough, it’s as if the man can see what Bop’s planning before he does it. Both his hands grab Bop by the throat, squeezing it so fast it makes Bop cough. But the cough has nowhere to go, and it stays trapped in his chest, making it burn. He struggles, trying to push the man’s hands away, but that only makes him force Bop to the ground so he can straddle him, trying to keep him still.

“You should’ve fucking known not to yell,” the man growls, tightening his grip on Bop’s throat until he gags.

Bop continues to struggle, clawing at the man’s hands as his chest and throat burn. His mouth is frozen wide open, helplessly gaping, searching for air. His vision starts to fade out, but before it does, he feels something in his throat crackle, give, sending shooting pain down his neck. The burst of adrenaline-fueled panic it causes lets him arch his back off the ground enough to jostle his assailant. But it’s not enough to make him stop. He bears down, leaning more weight into his hands, and Bop loses the ability to think. It’s only no air, no air, no air, no air, no strength, no fight, no movement, no sight, no light, nothing.

~~~

“Bop! Bop!! Please baby, wake up, come on!!”

Bop comes back in an instant.

His first instinct is to cough, and cough he does. Someone – Bing, who else – helps him sit up. Bop can’t look at Bing for coughing, but he grabs for him helplessly, looking for support. Bing huddles closer to him and rubs his back as Bop tries to breathe. Even without the man’s hands on his neck, he still feels pressure, still feels something wrong. His throat feels rough, raspy, cracked, and pain shoots all the way down to his chest with every cough. Finally, after what feels like forever, he gets his breathing under control and the coughing stops. Bing wipes tears of exertion from Bop’s eyes, staring at him with barely-disguised fear and completely-undisguised relief.

“Oh, Boppy, you’re alright,” Bing gasps. He pauses. “I mean, you’re not really okay…” He glances at Bop’s neck and winces, and Bop has no doubt that his neck has an ugly ring of bruises around it. “But you’re alive,” Bing continues, “I was so worried when I saw that guy strangling you–”

“How–” Bop rasps, coughing as he tries to make words come out his abused throat, “How’d you know?”

Bing’s face falls at that.

“You butt-dialed me. When you were getting strangled.” His voice trembles. “I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I heard the guy tell you you shouldn’t have yelled, and I knew something bad was happening. But, hey,” Bing adds, pulling something out of his pocket and trying to smile. “I got these back for you.”

It’s Bop’s airpods, no worse for wear.

“How?” Bop asks, his voice so raspy it’s nearly unintelligible. Bing’s expression changes again, this time becoming solemn.

“Punched the guy in the face,” he says as Bop puts his airpods into his pocket. “Broke his nose, told him I’d break the rest of him if he didn’t give up whatever he took from you.” He cups Bop’s face in his hands, pinky fingers bending down to trail over the topmost edge of the bruising on Bop’s neck. “I would’ve done it, too. After how bad he hurt you.” He leans forward and kisses Bop, and Bop melts into it as exhaustion catches up to him. The sigh he lets out is raspy and quiet.

“C’mon,” Bing says, “Let’s go home. Doc’s gotta look at your throat.”

_Yeah,_ Bop tries to say, but nothing comes out but a rumbly puff of breath. His eyes widen.

_My voice,_ he thinks, _oh no, my voice!_

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bing murmurs, putting together Bop’s distress, “Doc’ll give your something for your throat and you’ll be able to talk in no time.” He scoops Bop up, carrying him effortlessly. “Just relax, I’ll get us home.”

It’s easier said than done, but Bop snuggles against Bing and tries to calm his beating heart, thumping in time to the pain pulsing in his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Boppy. Maybe we'll see what happens with his voice...


End file.
